I wonder, as I sit in my spot
if there is more to life than
slowly advancing from the
green innocence of youth
to the dark tones of maturity?
As I contemplate my flesh
once firm to the touch
but now seeming to break
at the slightest pressure
I wonder, is there more to life than this?
And as I sit here in my spot
I have to wonder if I even have the right
to contemplate the mysteries of life,
for I am merely an over-ripe banana
the breeding ground for fruit flies.
“Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana”
Victoria has given us another wonderful prompt at dVerse: to write poems in the first person…but an apparent first person – in other words, first person from someone else’s point of view. I chose to embody an overly philosophical banana that is brown, mushy, and worried that he had wasted his youth.